Somewhere Beneath the Light
by Lucipherous
Summary: The musk of rivalry had been five years gone in the Ninja World with the death of the Fourth Shinobi World War, the trees and blossoms just beginning to flourish again. The sakura tree, tall and gnarled in its beauty, was the first to remove itself from the effects of war, and the first to sink back in, shriveling under the handsome gazes of the returned traitor and the Kazekage.
1. The Beginning of the Beginning

Sasuke Uchiha had always enjoyed the larger things in life.

A preference of a slightly more expensive way of living was not something he created on his own of course. He had inherited it from quite far down the family line, but it seemed that the years he spent away from civilization had caused his habit to make everything he owned a little more posh than necessary to swell pridefully. A great example of this was his house: the Uchiha manor. Standing proudly among the treetops, the dark-colored brick lining the building defined the nobility of the entire estate; a good 6 acres were detectable by the naked eye, all of which were engulfed by thick grass, small patches of wildflowers, and toys that had been lost by his children.

Well, technically,_ their_ children.

Rolling her eyes at the unwanted correction, Sakura tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear, seeing as it was blocking her view of her past home. The thought of stepping through the kissing cherry wood doors that stood preciously before her made her cringe. She hated this house and all the memories it held within. Memories of apologies, and renewed friendships. Skin on skin, heavy breathing, a child's laughter from a faraway corridor.

This is where it all started and where it all ended.

She liked it that way. She liked the house much better without her in it, and without the owner tainting her life. But even as disapproval swam through her veins, she climbed the small slope that led to the front doors of the towering building in front of her. The worn wood of the porch groaned under her weight, and she lifted her hand, carefully rapping on the door twice.

There was a rustling and then the door opened with a swing that caused a small breeze to cast over her rosy cheeks, revealing her shirtless - albeit deliciously so - ex-husband.

"Sakura," He stepped aside, motioning for her to enter her once-home. "On time as always."

She smirked as she nodded, noticing the tired lines under his eyes. Obviously Kunomi had kept him up late more than once during the week. She made a mental note to reward the little squirt.

"She's in the back with Yana and Himori. Naruto has a meeting with the Elders at noon, so I'm watching them. Plus I figured Kunomi could use the company while I, uh, work." Sasuke shut the door behind her and followed her into the kitchen. She picked up on the reluctance in his voice and the way his words faded into the quiet air of the room. But she ignored it, seeing as it wasn't any of her business anymore, and it definitely wasn't going to affect anything she had to do today. She grinned and plopped onto the seat of her favorite recliner, muttering an 'okay' to his approaching form and turning her gaze to the pale ceiling.

Many people found it surprising that the Uchiha household was lit brightly and was not nearly as gloomy as it's owner. _Especially_, Sakura remarked, _since I'm no longer here._

But anyone who knew the real story of the pink haired medic and the traitor's relationship were well aware that she had left a lasting impression on him, even when it came to trifling things such as the brightness of his home. His view of everything had changed all because of her. He came back for her. The only reason he was still in Konoha was because of her and their kids, and it was only to please her. Everything was for Sakura. Everything was Sakura, plain and simple.

But things were never that simple, she had said to him once.

It had been discussed and decided as she arrived at her third term in her second pregnancy that a separation was necessary. All of the villagers had accepted that Sasuke and Sakura were just too young to be married by this point. Both were only twenty-five, and their first child, Kunomi, was already proving too much of a handful. Konoha surely wasn't ready for two young shinobi with that much chakra and pent up energy. Naruto and Hinata had already "blessed" the ninja world with four very not silent children, and Ino's big mouth had been passed down to her son. Kami forbid that the unborn Uchiha boy receive Sakura's personality tenfold as his sister did. One village could only take so much.

All in all, an agreement had been reached. Within two weeks of the second Uchiha child's birth, Sakura would be escorted to Suna, Kiri, or maybe even Kumo. This would be to get away from her would-be-ex-husband, and possibly start a new life. Naruto had assured Sakura that she could decide up to the very hour that she was supposed to take leave of Konoha where she would travel to. She had pondered over her times in each of the possible villages, every thought making the idea of leaving Konoha less appealing to her senses. She didn't even want to go. _Why did Sasuke have to be a traitor?_ The childish part of her mind piped up. _Honestly._ All it caused was inconvenience for her.

Before she could continue to steam over this move, she forced herself to go to the blonde Hokage's office and tell him her choice.

_"Oh, um, actually, you can't go to Kumo. Or Kiri," he shrugged his shoulders at her, noticing her rigid form, "You have to go to Suna."_

_Sakura felt her eyes narrow and Hinata came out of the corner to subtly diffuse this sudden tension between her husband and the medic. "Why, pray tell, do I have to go to Suna?" she hissed._

_"On business. So it's like a vacation mission, I guess…" The blonde Hokage rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and ducked out of habit, missing Sakura's oncoming blow by a fraction._

After she was finished fuming, she had gathered enough information from the bumbling Rokudaime to make out that she would be stuck in Wind Country for around two months. Naruto and Gaara were beginning to rebuild the damaged ties between Leaf and Sand shinobi, as well as rebuilding some of the city damage, and she supposed that the Head Medic there had requested her assistance.

_"Something along those lines,"_ her friend had said, _"Kankurou wrote it down and he's not usually as good at, you know, explaining things."_

So she traveled there with her very pregnant body and five-year old in tow, to find that Suna was booming. With quick glances around, the difference was vast when compared to the slumping economy that plagued the village during the Godaime Kazekage's reign. Civilians bustled around town with carts full of food and trinkets and children's feet scraped the ground, dirt lingering on their bare legs as they ran through the golden alleys. The shinobi population was also prospering, various ninja of different rankings nodding to her as they passed.

Even in her short-sleeved qipao dress, to her disbelief and annoyance, she could still feel the sultry press of heat from Suna's summer sunshine.

She pressed one hand to her stomach, the other to wipe sweat away from her forehead. Being pregnant in such intense heat was not an entertaining situation at all. She closed her viridian eyes for a few moments, enjoying the slight drop in temperature as a cloud passed over the sun. Sighing, she continued to walk through the sandy village, her five-year-old babbling as she clung to her mother's arms.

Though arrangements had been made for she and Kunomi to become temporary residents at the Kazekage's home, Sakura found Suna to be refreshing compared to Konoha, so she hardly ever spent time inside the colossal mansion. She devoted the days of her first three weeks of the vacation mission rotating between sleeping, making small talk with Temari and Gaara, settling political matters, pitching in at the hospital, and sometimes squeezing visits to the park with Kunomi somewhere in the middle of it all.

It was a busy first month, but it was a nice kind of busy (or, at least, to her). There was a difference between a sort-of-vacation and being swamped with so much to do she began considering tearing her hair out just to numb the pain in her head; a difference that she had learned to very much appreciate.

But, unexpectedly - even though the pinkette probably should've seen it coming - things changed during the half-point mark of her stay.

* * *

><p><em>Her body was engulfed in sweet relaxation as she spread out in the den of the Kazekage's mansion. She held a book in her hand lazily, barely skimming her gaze over the pages as the sound of Kunomi's soft snoring came from her lap, tempting her to settle her head against the plush arm of the couch. <em>

_Even the baby (she and Sasuke had yet to agree on the name, since they were not allowed to contact each other aside from emergencies) only kicked every now and then, and very gently. She was content to fall asleep right there, the heat of the fire to warm her and the sound of her childrens' heartbeats to keep her calm. _

_But as she moved to place the book she was holding on the table behind her, she spotted Gaara in the doorway. His red hair stood boldly apart from the delicate green wallpaper that lined the hall; the thick lines around his eyes made them more prominent in the dimness of the house. He must have recognized her presence by now, Kazekage or no._

_"Hey," she whispered, knowing that he would hear her even though she had barely made a sound. _

_He placed his robes on a hanger, sliding it quietly into the hallway closet, and turned to her with a tired gaze. "Hey."_

_Interactions between them proved surprisingly easy. Sakura thought that maybe he held a grudge against her seeing as he had tried to kill her about a decade before, but the redhead had shocked her by being almost constantly polite and sincere._

_It was nothing special; she considered him just a friend._

_Gaara was just the kind of person who was good to have around for small things. He wasn't very talkative, but he still tried to be social and kind to her. He was a friend in a way that stood out to her more that it should've; he was a boy who'd grown into the kind of man whom put effort into making an effortless relationship with her. She liked that._

_He took her greeting as an invitation, she assumed, since he strode into the cozy room and all but collapsed on the sofa opposite from her. She smiled at him, and he grinned from behind one of his hands. Sakura shook her head at his attempt to hide his exhausted face and placed the book behind her as she had originally intended, then snuggled back into the cushions._

_Kunomi groaned and pushed against Sakura's belly, but eventually found the crook of the growing bump of her mother's stomach and pressed her face against it, lodging her mouth into a sleepy pout. This position caused Sakura to grimace a little, seeing as there was an unwanted pressure pointing painfully into her abdomen, and she was sure that Kunomi was pushing against one of the baby's feet._

_Before she could voice her complaint aloud, Gaara was in front of her and slowly picking up Kunomi,"It's fine," he assured, "I'll put her to bed and be right back down." He flashed his teeth quickly at the kunoichi before exiting the room and hopping quietly up the staircase to the West Wing._

_Deciding it would be better if she prepared for a long night, not knowing whether the baby would keep her up or if Gaara was in one of his debating kind of moods, Sakura leaned over the back the sofa, catching up a fuzzy quilt in her left hand and a throw pillow with her right. She stuffed the pillow a bit before placing it behind her aching back and draping the blanket over her waist. His footsteps signaling his approach, the roseate folded her arms carefully over her stomach, which stuck out ever more than usual considering her position. She watched the Kazekage as he leaned into the confines of the long stretch of furniture that they now shared, his hip resting several inches from her feet and his head positioned to the side so that he could consume her view with eyes the color of robins' eggs._

_She didn't look away from his intense gaze; instead she bent over her enormous stomach and rubbed her index finger over the soft crease between his brows and smiled. His response was a small twitch of his lips and a pat on her knee._

_Returning back to her original position, Sakura cleared her throat and asked in an amused tone, "So, what's the topic for tonight?"_

_His answer did not come immediately, much to her chagrin. He sat there for a few long moments, his crimson locks sticking up in odd angles and reflecting the amber light of the fire. He was impossibly still, his stare never once cracking it's hard shell. She began to wonder if he would answer at all, seeing as his mouth was set into a tough line. _

_She was hardly nervous around him anymore. Her lengthy stay in Suna made them clash more than once, of course, especially since she was taking up residence at his house but it was minor scuffles that always managed to work themselves out. Their reunion when she first arrived in Suna was unnecessarily tense, she would admit, but he had proved easy enough to get along with. He was more than tolerable compared to what she had expected from the ex-Jinchuuriki. Temari had let it slip one morning as Sakura prepared Kunomi a late breakfast that Gaara was not nearly as social with others as he was with her. She had asked why this was, only for Temari to reply, "Beats me," and stride out of the house with a goodbye wave, mentioning that she had business to take care of across the village. _

_She pondered this confession for a moment before having her attention caught by Kunomi, her charcoal eyes alive with mirth._

_Something had developed between them. _

_Even though they rarely ever spoke beyond the point of friendly banter when in the company of others, Sakura found that Gaara was a completely different man under the shade of night. When the curtains were drawn, both insomniacs found comfort in the other's company. If they spoke at all, it was only about the great troubles of the world. They debated in depth of the psychological battles and the differences between right or wrong until the sun hung low and the world was fresh and dewy. They would then go their separate ways only when both parties were satisfied, or at least until another resident of the household awoke._

_It was only very recently that touching ever became allowed. Or at least, she thought it was allowed, considering the red head was the first one to make a move. But it was only ever small things; the ghost of his fingers over her hand, or her thumb brushing against his brow, trying to iron out the plains of worry that rested there. _

_However, this made it all the more real to her, the touching. Aside from the fact that she had never seen his face light up at anyone's words besides hers, and that she detect, she could feel the weight of his interest in her growing, more than she was aware of his small caresses. Her mind alerted her that the ache in her heart was exactly what she wanted to avoid; she could not afford another Sasuke._

_"You." His voice was deep, but no growl boiled under the surface of his voice, not like it did so many years ago when Shukaku boiled and ate away at his conscience and sanity._

_"Pardon?"_

_"You," his eyes were clear and shining against the light of the fire. "I want to talk about you."_

* * *

><p>She returned her gaze to Sasuke, whom sat tensely in his chair, as self-centered as ever.<p>

Never like Sasuke, she thought. Much, much better.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**. This one is only slightly important.

Okay, I've got it back up! I don't think I made you all wait that long, but if I did, I apologize.

I've finally got a hold on this story, so updates shouldn't be as crazy as they were the last time this was posted. Also, as an apology, I'm also working on a SasuSaku to make you hate me less. And if you don't like SasuSaku, then woops. My bad. But you'll like it anyway!

**Thank you to my amazing beta, Himura Ren. **She's totally lovely, and without her my story would be poo.

x


	2. We Stalk the Idle Kind

**AN**: It is such an immense pleasure to be back! I've been working tirelessly on this chapter, drafting it to (as close as I can get to) perfection. I hope you all enjoy it. Any vocabulary/plot confusion will be answered in the bottom. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I might as well with this gigantic damn plot.

* * *

><p>It was close to striking six in the evening, yet Sakura still sat wary, sipping on tea prepared a short time earlier, not minding that it burned her tongue. Little swirls of dissolving sugar swam on the surface of her drink insisted an impatient leave, similar to the ideas that plagued her. It remained difficult to maintain her composure, to keep her eyes - shining, green like the candies they sold in the market, yet perfectly empty - trained on Sasuke. He merely sat, his arms draped across his lap whilst holding firm and capable, his legs tucked under himself. His tea untouched. He knew Sakura was aware of his heavy curiosities and that faking confidence was not needed. The more intimate spectrum of his emotions was called for. He chose calculated anxiety as his approach, although it was a bit of an oxymoron.<p>

"Kunomi is improving," They talked little, though time encouraged them to press on to more demanding matters. Sasuke timidly pushed topic of their children, a move that Sakura regarded impressively. "It seems almost derogatory that we were worried about how quickly her speech would develop. Already she is showing signs of the Sharingan." He was pushing conversation in the right direction. Sakura almost applauded. Though honestly she should have expected him to know just what to say.

"We were always tagged as worry warts, I suppose," she shrugged, taking another swig of her tea. Her gaze flickered out the back door, searching for movements in the tall grass fields, or perhaps in the garden. Kunomi must be playing another hiding game with the girls, she mused. It was very like her to pick something she was good at. Sakura observed the terrace, the flowers overgrown and tangled, heavy greenery wrapping around the cinder blocks knocked loose of the border that contained the plants. The fruit trees were misshapen, the ones Sasuke disliked baring too much ripe fruit. Produce that grew too heavy still lay where they fell from their branches, except the occasional peach or lemon smashed by a child's foot or an animal's hoof. The grass was harshly maintained. The sunset unremarkable.

The manor had lost its polish since its primary caretaker left. Sasuke Uchiha appeared, for lack of a better word, overwhelmed.

Placing her cup on the table beside her, Sakura's eyes rose. She resisted the urge to clear her throat before she spoke.

"I'm sure you're wondering about the baby."

Tensity filtered into Sasuke's dark gaze. He, unlike the pinkette, indulged in the action, the grunt from his throat dancing off of the walls. "Of course. He is my son, after all. Keeping me at a distance does not change that," the bite that she expected in his words was not there. It never was. Poor Sasuke, she thought sarcastically, so tragically misunderstood that he can't even add some detectable acrimony to speed things along.

"I wasn't keeping you 'at a distance'," she took a chance with his patience and rolled her eyes, "it's not my fault he was born in Suna." She considered that she might be layering the exasperation on a little thick, but disregarded the thought as she ran a hand through her hair. She was decidedly uncomfortable.

"That may be so, but are you insinuating that I can't hold you partially responsible?" His words implied anger, but none could be detected in his voice. "He is over a two weeks old and I haven't met him, Sakura."

Noticing his steely eyes, she shivered out of habit. She knew she should say something, but instead took a moment to blow lightly across her tea cup, even though it'd been cool for a while now. At an attempt to steer her mind back in the right direction she joked to her Inner that Sasuke's glare had chilled the tea, but even her imagination shrugged and rolled her eyes. The thought to throw a harmless glance out of the windowed door crossed her mind, but by now Sasuke had already noted her pause. Every moment she stayed silent gave another inch to him. Her nerves danced with panic behind her eyes, and suddenly Sakura wanted very much to lie down. The tea cup clattered against the saucer as she returned it to its waiting place, and she muttered quietly that she appreciated that he continued the habit of polishing the china between washes. His expression remained stony and this time, Sasuke was the one to lift his face to the sunset and sigh. Her name fell gracelessly from his lips, as if saying it wore him out. This set her off for some reason, and her neck muscles tightened as she gritted her teeth. She closed her eyes so as not to see what would surely be an unmoved expression on his shining face.

"I've only seen him twice. You think you're the only one getting the hard end of the bargain?" She was taking a huge risk being this openly frustrated with him. Sasuke was unpredictable when he didn't get what he desired. "I dislike our baby being held hostage in a hospital just as much as you do, if not more. I'm a healer. I should be there for him, but instead I'm stuck here," her breathing hitched a little. Keeping her eyes shaded, she drew in a few breaths before continuing, "I'm stuck here, wondering what to make of you, and what my next move is. And before we even get to our problems, there is one more thing we have to figure out."

Fluidly Sasuke stood, retrieving his tea, now cold, and a quilt from the floor which he moved to drape across Sakura. He stared at her lazily and watched the slow opening of her eyes. The lighting reminded him of waking next to her, dawn painted across the room and her skin spotted with blossoms of sunlight. The small memory flushed through his veins after a moment to be stored in a dark corner of his body. A sensation pulled at his heart that was altogether familiar and exceptional, but he dismissed it as Sakura quickly glanced at him. As the blanket settled about her legs, a bit of her anger was released, like somewhere inside of her a valve had opened. She had been drained. She supposed that he couldn't help it, still loving her. Or at least, he couldn't resist showing it in the subtle ways he always seemed to prefer.

"And what would that be?" He stood directly across from her now, watching the sunlight reflect off of her eyes. She noted that he seemed more relaxed, although irritation was still laced in his voice. For a moment she considered that he was giving up, but then again, he could just be tired. It was impossible to tell with Sasuke, it seemed.

She caught his eye again, peering up with an amused expression, and poked lightly at his arm. Even before she spoke, he could practically here the smile in her voice.

"What are we going to name him?"

* * *

><p>Traveling, Gaara decided, was always the worst part.<p>

The Kazekage found himself lounging against the pale frame of a cottage window, the sunset churning orange within itself, bouncing off the glass much like it always seemed to whenever he took a moment to observe the world. On a more sentimental night, he might have remarked that it changed things hidden deep within him, though it would be thought lazily, hardly quivering with meaning. Tonight he simply stood, wishing to be swooned by such meager things as sunsets.

He lightly rubbed his shoulder where his gourd had pressed too heavily during travel. He never got used to carrying it for more than a few hours, his office usually within a few minutes reach. The demand for direct interference remained low, so in return the container usually sat untouched in his office in Suna. Even when he was forced to travel, he wasn't typically paraded around as soon as he arrived at his location. Most Kages had sense enough to allow travelers, especially noble ones, an adequate resting period before political or personal consultations. Naruto was exempt from this rule.

Naruto requested an immediate debriefing upon arrival. Although none sat with him now, Gaara had received a hand-written note from a young ANBU woman whom sported a bear on her face. It seemed Kurama's impatience still stirred in his friend.

His trip was hasty, and the welcome to the village seemed to pass with barely a blink of his eye. The small hut he'd been given was one of the few things he always personally requested. It lay in a patch of tall grasses, separated only by the stone path that cut to the wooden steps. There was a greenhouse in the back that he tended to during his frequent visits, and when he was away Naruto would appoint genin to water the plants. In the winter he brought them in and perched them on a shelf he built several summers ago. His hands, lean and rough, were not made for construction. The shelf was an example of this. The cherry wood glinted in the light of a lamp, but obviously hung crooked along the wall. The light hue of the wallpaper did nothing to obscure its position and so in the summer, when the vines of his plants did not tangle over the wood, it sat there exposing his bleak shame. The rest of the cottage, however, remained untouched by his creations, and therefore was appropriately furnished and complimentary to his needs.

Transitioning from his little house to the path to Naruto was quick, though as he ran a hand through his red hair, a longing to stretch across his bed and blink away the rest of the afternoon settled in his chest. He ignored it, bringing his hand down to scratch at his nape thoughtfully. It would be notably disrespectful to disregard a noble's request for conference, even if it was only Naruto. Duty came before anything, and tolerating Naruto's antics was more or less a part of his duty. It only took a glance to spot Temari's spiked buns and the outfits of her guards through the window, whom he already knew would flank him the moment he turned to leave. He took a step towards the door and then out of it, pushing his mind and body back into the heavy light of day.

The sun swam lower in the sky than when he arrived. Generally Gaara provoked isolation amongst civilians when he visited villages, but in Konoha life seemed to go on. Everything shone brightly. Street vendors waved their sun-darkened arms, voices bursting through the thick summer air. Occasionally they would bow at the hip towards a passing friend, or grin and wink at a child rolling in the grass across the road. Light laughter swept across his traveling party in waves, coming from all directions; leaking out the open door of a nearby izakaya, accompanied by hazy cigar smoke; an old woman telling fairy tales to a group of children on a porch; a father and son sitting on barrels, sharing a pot of tea and jesting over a game of chess. The town whirled on as Gaara walked past.

Still, he was not approached. Even though the people he observed spun through their day with warmth in their faces, none were in close proximity. Aside from Temari and two of her personal shinobi (he held no interest in befriending the guards), Gaara strolled alone. Not once did a villager make eye contact. It vaguely reminded him of surveying a line of soldiers before walking into battle. His company was not unwelcome, but it remained foreboding.

Gaara angled his face to the side to catch a glimpse of his team, and felt the sunlight wash over his forehead. Temari kicked a bundle of rotting flowers that fell from the bushes that lined the road, while the guards walked with straight backs, their eyes looking without seeing. He imagined they were trying to pass off as simply staring at the hazy horizon, but Gaara could sense that they were alert, and that they were focusing on him. Even though he brought Suna to greatness, almost all people remained weary of him. On soft nights he often wondered if they could somehow forgive him for being born the twin of destruction. So far he had yet to be presented with any proof that this would ever happen.

So it was with unexpected calm that he approached the Academy, merely blinking at the rich wood and complimentary gardens, his face still. Silent surprise struck him at the quaintness of its appearance given Naruto's garish taste. Though he was hardly a stranger to Konoha, he always found himself pausing at the detail of scenery. He'd often wished for Suna to be blessed with the feminine blossoms of spring, to take a step out of his front door and be greeted with the lush grass that consumed most of Konaha. He supposed that Suna had its own rustic beauty, with the sloped golden sand and the constant, gentle winds that sculpted the land. His land. Perhaps the flowers that bloomed in the pots of his windowsill were not silky to the touch, and maybe there was no forest floor to sprawl across, but the desert was his soul. The sand was supple and silken in its own way, and he was positive that if he lay across it he would find himself comfortable. If he were to grip a lump of sand and watch it rush through his fingers, he supposed the gesture would be the same as a man returning from war to kiss his wife and children. Suna remained a rare and constant thing in his life, and he was entranced by the simplicity it held.

He and his traveling party made quick work of the opening hallway, taking the back hallway as to avoid the Academy children wandering the halls. A set of doors, marked with a "Staff Only" sign, led to a tastefully decorated stairwell that guided them to many floors as they climbed. Each was speckled with doors and long rugs and a scent that distinctly reminded Gaara of cutting backs weeds in the sunshine. Open windows let in the natural smell of the outdoors which wafted through his mind, and again he found himself wishing to stretch across a bed and sigh.

"Gaara," called Temari, her voice cutting but soft, "you know where to go from here. I think the rest of us will just retire to our rooms across town," he acknowledged her with a short nod and turned to leave, "but you'll need to send a bird once you're done here, so the ANBU-"

"I'll be fine on my own," his tone left no room for argument. Temari knew he always objected to escorts in Konaha; he believed he was safer here than in Suna. It made her ache to watch his scolding gaze smooth over her face, unforgiving of her implied doubts of his capability to handle himself in such a frequented village. She adjusted her hair uncomfortably, yearning to voice her opinion of his familiarity of Konoha, but held her stance. His eyes softened at the motion, but ultimately his feet shifted in preparation to continue on his way. Looking at him now, her baby brother clothed in the white and green of his Kazekage uniform, she wished for the amusing company of Kankuro, but instead of thinking on the feeling, she, too, turned her feet to depart. Her two ANBU soldiers flanked her as she climbed the stairs, leaving him only with words that she'd hope he'd consider: "Remember where you belong, little brother."

His lips parted in thought, his eyes hardening with a tinge of rage. Temari knew how to get under his skin easily, and he found that ever since he combined recovery plans with Naruto, so that Konoha and Suna may grow and gain restoration together, his sister became tense in the presence of Leaf subordinates, and especially so when they traveled into the village. The greenery made her nervous, and the bustling city life often left her dizzy and ill. Gaara and Kankuro had mused that the rejection of Shikamaru left a bitter taste in her mouth, and naturally she associated the heartbreak with Konoha. Recently, though, her fitful tendencies were becoming frequent along with the political - or personal, as Temari claimed - visits, and she often took her displeasure out on the Kazekage. Growing up with him, nurturing him as he was draped with the responsibilities of his title, she had picked up on his peeves. The fact that she was using them against his person to make him question his actions - which, to his calculations, were perfectly justifiable - and cause guilt to plague his brain? Temari knew better. And, also, it got on his damn nerves.

A short walk down the hall led him to the simple door of the Hokage's office. As the opening speech of an ANBU guard began, questioning his identity and verifying his words, Naruto's impatient grunt sounded from inside the room. Gaara inwardly smirked, watching with patient amusement as the guards bowed lowly, then opened the door before sidestepping their previous positions so the Kazekage could pass. Gaara muttered a polite "thank you" as he stepped inside, then allowed his smirk to creep across his face as they shut the door behind him. It was a wonder how they put up with Naruto.

The redhead stepped farther inside, sending a mock bow towards his respective colleague and fellow Kage, whom currently reclined in his chair while staring unhappily at the piles of paper on his desk. Naruto blew a piece of long, blonde hair away from his forehead with an upturned mouth, looking frustrated as he crossed his bright blue eyes to focus on the lock of hair. After a moment more of huffing and puffing at himself, Naruto rolled his eyes and pushed the hair away with his hand, and hollered a "hello" to Gaara, grinning as he tossed around the papers on his desk in an attempt to tidy up. His smile, usually charming and vivid, dropped as Gaara approached the desk. The action heightened the curiosity within him as he followed Naruto's hands, observing him as he stooped down to pick up portfolios that perched on the floor, only to plop them on his desk and stare at them, unsure of what to do.

Gaara took a seat beside his desk so he was able to peer at the papers on Naruto's desk, and he could sense that the blonde felt no breach of privacy. He gathered a stack of folders in his tanned hands, and after slapping the ends against the surface of his desk in a poor attempt to align them, the Hokage whipped open a drawer on his right and placed them inside. Gaara glanced at the label against the shine of the sun, mentally sighing for his friend as he read the words "Missing Nin" pasted on the front of the drawer. Remembering his friend's welcoming yet exhausted grin, Gaara meant to give Naruto a meaningful look, but found that his eyes were still trained on the heap of work before him. Naruto, naturally having no false modesty, as well as understanding that Gaara shared his perspective on this particular area of distress, sighed without restrain. With his elbow he jostled a stack of papers aside, lumped together where they lay, crookedly elevated with the randomly dog-eared pages here and there. A chuckle racked his chest, and Naruto swatted at the high collar of his Hokage uniform. He turned his face to regard Gaara, whom sat still and quiet, waiting to be addressed. Blue met blue and Naruto let out another empty laugh, rising from his chair and turning his back to release the blinds of the windows at the rear of the room. The skin over Gaara's spine rippled in response, an inset reaction to nervousness he'd had since he was young.

_He's shielding Konoha's eyes_, pondered Gaara, _no one is supposed to know I'm speaking with him_. _Moreover, no one is supposed to know what we're speaking about_. Naruto mumbled a plea for the two Kage to be left alone, and Gaara could make out the calm thumping of shifting feet, followed by the receding footsteps of two ANBU he'd briefly seen earlier - a Frog and a Bird.

Gaara stood to pour himself a cup of tea, only knowing there was some type of brew from the warmth he sensed in the corner of the room. Upon reaching the tea stand, he stretched his fingers to stroke the polished wood underneath a painted tea pot, then sank back on his ankles to open the doors of a connected cabinet. He extended his arm inside until he brushed the smooth surface of a cup, then two. Slipping his fingers between the handles he drew them out, then titled his head to gesture to the blonde in an offer for tea. Naruto, his palm pressed against his forehead, nodded placidly and rubbed at his eyes. Satisfied with the response, the Kazekage turned back to the tea stand, setting the cups beside the teapot and shutting the doors with his shins.

"What kind is it?" inquired Gaara, keeping his focus on his hands. He dusted the inside of the cups with a nearby strip of cloth, then lifted the belly of the pot to pour the tea. He could catch subtle hints of lavender and honey escaping the nozzle of the container before being wrapped in the unmistakeable musk of jasmine. Gaara placed the porcelain pot back on its stand, then turned to bring Naruto his tea, not missing the shining pile of poorly hidden sake bottles on the floor. Naruto stretched as he approached, reaching for the tea soon after it was planted on his desk. The blonde sipped at it thoughtfully before taking a large swig, purring at the warmth that soaked his throat.

"It's jasmine pearl, I think," hummed Naruto, scratching at his chin and eventually settling his jaw against his palm. He quirked his brows and whipped his lips into a mischievous smile, speaking with returned mirth, "too bad they haven't invented a ramen tea yet, eh?" Naruto laughed pleasantly at himself, not minding that Gaara showed no outward amusement.

The red head placed his tea on the nearby windowsill after swallowing the astringent, soothing liquid. No doubt there was a purpose for the brew, what with Naruto's adopted alcohol consumption habit. Gaara was reminded of the white sake bottles as a tingling sensation massaged the skin over his temples. His lips lifted slightly as he internally complimented Hinata's cleverness. He could hardly picture the Hyuga's pale eyes glistening with a wicked idea, and watching her deposit a sliver of healing chakra to soothe her husband's soaring headache. Hinata must have thought herself a good wife, and as the tingling sensation traveled across his scalp, Gaara commended her efforts.

"I see you've turned to Tsunade's methods," voiced Gaara, his claim only tinged with humor, and Naruto shook his head as a grin spread across his features.

"I knew I should've hidden them more carefully," chuckled Naruto, "not that would fool you anyhow," he passed a hand through his yellow hair, bashful and bold even in his moment of truth, his cowardice uncovered by the sweeping eyes of his rival and friend. Gaara perked up at his laughing, snatching his tea off of the windowsill and taking a long sip from his cup. The Kazekage liked to think that he would remember this moment: drinking tea with what he would describe as his best friend, avoiding the topic at hand with jokes and quips, but still managing to be okay. Gaara often thought to himself that that was all he ever really wanted to be: okay.

They exchanged sarcastic remarks for a handful of minutes before their laughing faded into the walls of the room. The talk had been heavy even though it was shared between life-long friends. Both of them knew that there was something to discussed, the only difference being that Naruto knew the problem and the proposal, while Gaara sat idle and expectant. The Kazekage, seemingly always calm, laced his fingers across his lap and allowed his tongue to pace nervously behind his teeth. Naruto appeared flustered, bothered even, and in turn this made the redhead's attention span fleeting. Each leader sat sweaty and apprehensive in the silence. No one passed through the narrow corridor beyond them. Machinery pumped chilly air across the wooden floor, and the brewed tea in the painted pot in the corner of the room cooled with the passing time. Gaara began to count the seconds as he gazed at the space between the bottom of the door and the floor, occasionally wondering if he should glance up, or perhaps speak up. Even as Kazekage his social skills remained undeveloped, and a situation like this made him nervous. He couldn't sense Naruto's eyes on him, and the redhead imagined that the blonde's imposing gaze rested against the slope of his hand, nursing his headache. Gaara's mouth felt dry, but he thought it intrusive to break the quiet with the slurping of his tea. Slouched in his chair, thoughts stumped, Gaara waited and continued to count the time, yearning for the floral rush of jasmine down his throat.

An eventual movement of Naruto caused Gaara to tilt his eyes towards him, and he watched passively as the Hokage disappeared under the lip of his desk. The redhead held his position, partially not wanting to startle Naruto and partially drawing a blank as his mind scrambled for something to do. His ears perked with interest at the faint sound of clicking tiles, the sky blue of his irises glittering with the need to pry, to look deeper. The nape of his neck flushed with suspicion. His gut flexed in a phantom reaction to Shukaku's violent insistence to take action - a habit he'd never truly broken - but he only rose slightly, slowly, refusing to succumb to his skeptical nature and fighting to maintain his control, although there was ultimately nothing to fight against.

Gaara straightened his spine and leaned against the broad back of the chair, only raising his chin high enough to meet Naruto's eyes when he returned to his seat. He knew the distance between curiosity and nosiness, respected that distance, and abided by the belief that unless otherwise contradicted by the person in control, Gaara's eyes did not belong where they were not invited. With this reminder he slid his gaze away from the compartment under his friend's desk. He knew that Naruto trusted him, even after the war and betrayal that plagued shinobi. The Kazekage greatly appreciated the effort and dependence Naruto deposited into their friendship, but Gaara still had his doubts. It wasn't that he believed that the blonde lacked conviction, moreover that Gaara's mistrust lay within himself, and his ability to obstruct from gaining unneeded, yet possibly valuable, knowledge. A hindrance of this caution usually tempted the older, obscure part of him, where Shukaku's ghost still loomed in the shade. It was of no particular help that Naruto's reckless attitude left holes wherever he moved or motioned, each one gaping with bait to entice Gaara to violence. However, since Naruto supplied a heaping amount of positive reinforcement, the redhead found a reason to stick around, even with the Hokage's intrepid nature.

Naruto's yellow spikes quickly sprang up, and he hefted a comparably small pile of portfolio folders beside those that dominated his desk. Gaara's attention was instantly drawn to them, noticing that these folders had been marked with a peculiar red dot, and that Naruto's careful fingers fretted about the edges and openings, assuring everything was in place. For a moment the two men looked up, catching and holding the other's eyes; one questioned, one shrugged almost amicably, chipper even in his unsureness. As Naruto's hands settled on the top of the stack he' withdrawn, Gaara noticed the tanned skin at the edge of his eyes crinkle in parallel with his smile, characteristic of the blonde, since he always searched for tense moments to break apart with his barren joy.

"I'm not sure what you'll say," spluttered Naruto, seemingly nervous although the Kazekage caught no trace of this under his smile. Gaara peered at him questioningly, rewarded with the blonde licking his lips and squinting his eyes as if he were looking into the bright light of the sun. He shook his head lightly, not stopping until a rough chuckle emerged from his mouth. "I probably look as if I've gone insane," his blue eyes, deep in color from the lack of light, peeled open and returned to Gaara, watching for a minuscule movement in his features. Faintly the redhead murmured a decline, and motioned for the blonde to continue.

Heaving out an exasperated sigh, Naruto removed the top two folders, nearly identical in appearance aside from an indistinct tear along the bottom of one. The undamaged folder was gestured to Gaara, the Kazekage retrieving it without much hesitation. As he waited for a signal to journey into the folder, scrutinizing Naruto as he plucked his own folder from the pile and reclined into his, the Suna nin remarked that the worried flutter of Naruto's hands was very uncharacteristic. It truly had been a long time since he'd dealt in doubtlessly hazardous political situations. The thought that he could be unprepared, even after ten years of splendid rule over Suna, crossed his mind, but he knocked it away as he turned the first page of his portfolio having noticed that his blonde friend had already begun.

The searching gaze of the Kazekage fell on the harshly written words across the page, tracing the slashed-through sentences with his eyes, taking in the sight of angry ink splattered on the corners. Before he had a chance to ask Naruto the meaning, his friend broke in:

"I'll explain, trust me," his voice took on a foreign wiseness that Gaara was unused to, "just read while I explain," the pure exhaustion and defense that filled his words settled uneasily with Gaara, but he did as instructed. He withheld his growing shock as he began to read, not wanting to convey mistrust in Naruto.

Naruto, sweat beading in waves down the golden skin of his temples, swiped his clammy palms against his robes. He fingered the edge of the folder until he felt the page he'd dog-eared earlier, hoping that the outline he'd drawn out would help him explain. Inwardly he sent a thought out to Kurama, demanding him to keep quiet. The fox's responding laugh was taunting, but he muttered a genuine encouragement, and Naruto shivered at the playful flick of his tail. A warm smile flicked across his lips; even if the plan outraged and baffled Gaara, at least he still had Kurama. But as he refocused his eyes to the words painted on his pages, a surge of stings clipped the inside of his stomach. It seemed that he only had the Kyuubi for now.

"You know what it's like, obviously; being a jinchuriki," started Naruto, wanting to curse at his shaky opening, "you know how hard it is." Gaara remained hunched over his folder, seemingly entranced. Naruto closed his eyes in silent determination, trying to eliminate the nervous burn in his chest. He quickly picked up again, although he kept his lids closed.

"My proposition does not include elimination of jinchuriki as was discussed with the other Kage, but instead I drafted a plan to ensure that their existence would not be a burden. In these ten years since the war began, we've managed to keep Gyuki and Kurama inside of B and myself, as well as retrieving Matatabi, Isobu, Kokuo, Chomei, and Shukaku. However, Son Goku and Saiken are still free, and even after we ultimately capture them, we have no way to stabilize them without the use of a ninja host, since there is no known way to destroy them," the blonde took a moment to breath, his usual calmness thrumming back to life in his chest. He wiped at the sweat under his eyes, scrunching his nose at the wetness of his eyelashes. Perhaps he should open a window; there always seemed to a slight wind in the air. He took another moment to steal a glance at his outlined speech, marking the big points in his mind, until Gaara's deep tenor interrupted his train of thought.

"This plan is absolutely, incredibly insane, Naruto," the blonde cringed lightly at the harshness, staring immobile at his pages. He knew that Gaara's face conveyed nothing, even though his voice leaked with crude disbelief. "How can you reach so high?"

Disappointment and hurt flitted across the Hokage's features at the forward words of his friend, and Naruto slowly pivoted in his chair, fully facing Gaara. He sighed unceremoniously, not breaking eye contact.

"I'm still working on it," his insistence came off more as a pathetic murmur, and Naruto drew his eyebrows together in frustration. He hadn't expected Gaara to be so close-minded. "I need more time, is all."

"We don't _have_ any more time, Naruto," Gaara flipped the folder shut, not wanting to stare at it's practically outrageous proposals. "A school for jinchuriki? Testing academy children to obtain the nine most powerful ninja children across the Shinobi countries? It would be a competition, Naruto. They wouldn't realize the responsibility of it. Proposing the removal of Kurama from yourself, a lethal procedure, just to carry this out?" the Kazekage halted, noticing the scolding tone of his words. Naruto held his gaze, although his fingers had laced together and were fidgeting across the surface of his paper.

Gaara sighed and glanced away, unable to watch Naruto's plan crumble in front of him. He should say something. He was not being the friend Naruto needed. _But to take on such a massive task, _Gaara thought, _it's impossible. The other Kage would not bear to hear it._

"Just give me more time," breathed Naruto, closing the folder and neatly tossing it on the top of the pile. He outstretched his hand to Gaara, turning to repeat his previous action after the smooth paper met his skin. "It will work." _It has to work._

Gaara nodded solemnly, reaching for his tea, grimacing at the chill. He let his eyes travel around the room, eventually landing on an assortment of pictures standing on a raised cabinet. Sunlight leaked through the slits between the blinds and reflected off of the glass, illuminating the faces underneath. Gaara grinned - something that he'd been taught to do as a way to show pleasure - and Naruto, too, turned to look back. His blue eyes, still burning, found the pictures of his family, perched and smiling against the wall to his right. Catching sight of Hinata's kind face, her dark hair falling lazily over her shoulders, peering down at the bright faces of two smiling young girls, warmth pooled in his chest . Yana, the eldest, sat calmly on her right, beaming up in a way so similar they could have been reflections of one another. Her hair, long and wavy and a deeper blue than the untamed depth of the ocean, caressed her willowy frame. Her lavender eyes were trained on her mother, and one of her pale hands held the smaller grasp of her younger sister. On Hinata's left posed Himori, her smile wide and wild like her hair, a vermilion halo that fell down her back. Her white eyes concentrated on the gentle face of Hinata, and a blush swam on her cheeks, pink and light from a captured fit of giggling. Naruto's heart practically melted at the sight of them, the epitome of joy. He shifted in his chair to see the picture better, causing the sun's reflection to shift, lighting up the other three pictures aside the point of his focus. One held the innocent gaze of his only son, Kichirou, whom peered down at the sleeping face of his youngest sister in the first week of her life. He was a mess of yellow hair, an exact replica of his father aside from his white eyes. Though he shared Naruto's looks, complete with a single whisker mark that traveled from the bottom of his lower lip to the underside of his chin, he took on the larger part of his mother's personality. When Naruto found himself jumping with joy, Kichirou stood reserved, quietly observing him in his moment of enthusiasm, rarely ever joining in. Naruto could feel his strong heart, though. Even under the coverage of his timid nature it thumped and burst wildly, just like his father's. Gaara noticed the shift in light as well, and he, too, gazed at the face of the "more tolerable Naruto", as Tsunade had once put it. The child had taken a liking to Gaara and his sand, which he sometimes allowed the children to run through their fingers. The infant resting underneath the heavy gaze of her brother was older now, though he hadn't seen much of her. She'd sprouted a spiky mane the color of amber wine when he'd clashed with her last, and was too busy rubbing her nap from her lilac eyes to notice him much. Sakura told him that when Hinata was in labor she'd had a brief fainting spell, and upon being caught she swore she'd heard the sound of bells outside. When the baby emerged, her head faintly covered in dark blonde hair, Yana emerged from her place in the corner of the room where she'd been assigned to monitor her younger siblings to whisper into her father's ear, gently pleading to name her Suzu.

"How is the baby?" spoke Gaara, unblemished curiosity in his voice as he sat entranced by the still smiles in the pictures. Naruto hummed in acknowledgement, training his eyes once on his little boy before slipping them to his youngest girl, so small and frail under the stature of her brother.

"She's well," muttered Naruto, the warmth and pride spreading through his torso once again, "I never see much of her. Hinata has to leave her at the flower shop with Ino most days since she's usually running around town on business. Ino says she doesn't mind since her twins enrolled in the Academy this year," Naruto moved to turn towards Gaara before briefly catching sight of another picture pushed slightly behind those of his children. Naruto's arms, clad in the large white sleeves of his Hokage uniform, were thrown around the shoulders of Sasuke and Sakura, both smiling, though their expressions were muddled. "When I do see her, though, she's as pure as anything. Just a happy kid," his words faded as he concentrated on the picture, the explanation slowly slipping away from him. Kakashi stood to the left of Sasuke, his arms tucked behind his back to hide the Icha Icha book he held, though a corner of it stuck out from behind his hip. It'd been taken a few hours after the ceremony that appointed him Hokage, approximately a year after the war had officially ended and Obito Uchiha had been killed. Juxtaposed from the photo of his old friends rested the captured of image of Gaara and Naruto shaking hands, a sea of applauding shinobi behind them. Naruto's expression was exuberant, the hot desert sun glittering off of his teeth, and a rare laugh echoed off of Gaara's pale face. The Kazekage appeared free of the heavy burden of desertion that often plagued him; it was Naruto's favorite picture.

Gaara followed Naruto's gaze and stared good humoredly at himself, ruffled by the uncharacteristic liveliness covering his face. For a moment he tried to trace any amount of discomfort in the photograph, but stopped himself, not wanting to ruin the image out of habit. The glowing face of the kunoichi in the picture adjacent to that of Naruto and himself caught his wandering teal eyes, and his smile deepened as he absorbed the image; the flush of her cheeks perfectly matched the shade of her hair; her eyelashes painted black for the formal ceremony. Absently he wondered if she'd returned from her errands around town, followed by the image of him striding out into the Konoha daylight to find Sakura and Kunomi waiting for him, the latter jumping at the sight of him, sprinting to tug at his hands until he gathered her in his arms. Sakura would emerge from the shade where she rested on the wall of the building, strolling slowly toward the pair with unrivaled tenderness in her gaze.

Naruto broke away from the pictures, successfully facing Gaara as he intended to carry on the conservation, though he wasn't quite sure where he'd left off. The redhead was relaxed and slack against the support of his chair, eyes unmoving from what Naruto knew was a picture of Sakura. Naruto smiled knowingly, a memory of the two walking by him, chatting animatedly, Gaara's sand dancing at the top of his canister. Sakura had finalized her divorce a week earlier, and in a desperate attempt for comfort had asked Gaara how his day was going at a collective brunch. Naruto nearly choked on his breakfast at the Kazekage's polite, almost _amusing_ reply, and Sakura chuckled at his response. Their friendship was no secret, and Naruto had unintentionally draw them towards each other by sending her to Suna. He'd never pondered on it before, but supposed that he didn't mind if they made one another happy. Sakura had been through a lot with Sasuke anyways. As he took in the sight of Gaara, his grin shyly admiring Sakura, Naruto inwardly shrugged, figuring that Gaara had been through a lot as well. He couldn't help but laughing aloud to himself at the thought of his two friends together, which startled Gaara back into attention. _What a chump, _thought Naruto, amused.

Gaara glared momentarily before rising to gather both of their tea cups, returning them to the basin. He muttered something along the lines of "I should be going now, things to sort out" and returned to Naruto's side to assign the borrowed chair to its proper place across from him. The blonde smirked knowingly as the Kazekage told him to redraft his proposal considering the jinchuriki and he would visit to discuss it again the next afternoon, only nodding in response, a sly smile on his lips.

"She'll be waiting for you at the hospital," called Naruto, almost bursting with laughter as Gaara paused in his departure, cringing at Naruto's deserved boasting. "It's been almost three weeks since he was born today, which means they can release him from the ICU. He's off the oxygen pump and he's gained some weight," Gaara nodded with his words, all of this information had been previously relayed to him via Sakura, but he was thankful for the reminder. _That would mean that when she retrieves Kunomi from Sasuke's house, he'll more than likely follow her to the hospital. _Naruto's voice chimed in a last time before he began to pack away his things, Konoha's sunset finally beginning to melt into darkness, "Sakura's relieved. We're all very happy for her," the Hokage's mindless blabbering only stimulated Gaara's urge to leave, and with another nod, he bid Naruto goodbye and began his trek towards the hospital.

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><p><strong>Fourth Shinobi World War<strong> - In this fanfic I've designed the war to have lasted 5 years, and currently they are on the 5th year of "recovery". In case you can't do math, that means this story is set ten years from the current Naruto series.

**izakaya** - a Japanese bar, almost. Serves drinks along with food.

A list of the children mentioned so far and their ages/parents. Other children will be introduced, but I don't want to spoil anything!

(In order of appearance/mentioned):

**Yana** is 7, she is the daughter of Naruto and Hinata.

**Himori** is 6, she is the daughter of Naruto and Hinata.

**Kunomi** is 5, she is the daughter of Sasuke and Sakura.

**Unknown Uchiha Child** is approx. 3 weeks old, he is the son of Sasuke and Sakura.

**Kichirou** is 3, he is the son of Naruto and Hinata.

**Suzu** is approx. ten months old, she is the daughter of Naruto and Hinata.

To get an idea of the timeline, in case it is not clear: Sasuke returned home in the middle of the war, and the year the war ended was the same year that Kunomi was born. Around the time Sakura became pregnant with her son, they decided that a divorce was necessary. Sakura became friends with Gaara again during the war, and their friendship got stronger with time, even after it ended. Since Naruto sent Sakura to Suna as a sign of trust and as a way to help Sakura have a more relaxed pregnancy, they've grown even closer. However, since Sakura was sent to Suna around the sixth month of her pregnancy to stay there until close to her due date and the baby came a month early and was also born in Suna because of risk, she had to return home to have him treated in the Konoha ICU, since he was premature. The story is set after his birth, in Konoha, and Gaara has come to Konoha on business, though Temari is beginning to believe it is becoming more personal. Hope that is a sufficient summary!

I'm introducing the main part of the plot fairly soon, but it really won't come into play until later. These first few chapters are just laying out the foundation of the entire story.

The next update will not be anywhere near as long as a year, but I'm not sure when it will be because of exams. Expect it before Christmas.

Meanwhile, feel free to read my drabble series, which I posted recently just to keep you all at bay. Please review! Criticisms are greatly appreciated, as well as compliments.

Until next time!


	3. Intimate

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for this bad ass plot.

"Thomas Edison's last words were 'It's very beautiful over there'. I don't know where there is, but I believe it's somewhere, and I hope it's beautiful." - John Green

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><p>There was a surrounding quiet begging to be broken. The hospital walls were beige and clean and stunk of a more sterile death than Sasuke thought natural. The keen sting of the moon obscuring his black eyes distracted him from the tame interest of the book he held. The curtains were stubbornly hooked on something hanging from the back of his chair and the shinobi played with the idea of ruffling it loose, but thought that it'd be too startling to break such a silence. In return, he blinked dryly at the bold moon, trying to shake his frustration and clear his head.<p>

His gaze flitted back and forth between the foxed pages of his book and the pasty glow of his hand against the light, and he wondered if he could compare to the iridescent glow of the moon in the dark of the waiting room. His hair and clothes, melting into the shadows of the unlit space, leaving only his face and hands to shine. Pallid and righteous and striking.

After a short amount of time during which Sakura arrived at his home, Kunomi and Naruto's two eldest children noticed their presence and greeted them, albeit a little uncomfortably and spontaneously.

Kunomi was alight with undaunted pleasure, her petal pink braid bouncing against her back, loose strands waving messily around as she nimbly jogged through the overgrown grasses of her tochan's wide yard in the back of the house. She ignored the protests of Himori as she pushed her short legs after her - she'd inherited Naruto's stunted growth - while Yana lazily fell into step beside the Uchiha girl.

They'd burst through the door without any contemplation of the possible situation. Even though all three girls possessed exceptionally bright minds, their childish intellect remained too austere to focus on the horizons of the situations - the if's and what's. Their only concern was making their presence known. Because of this, Kunomi sprinted animatedly towards the gap between her parents, whom were both sitting. Himori stumbled across the doorstep as she hurriedly followed her pink friend, then huffed and puffed as she plopped down on the floor in front of Sasuke's dangling legs. Yana simply paused in the doorway, then shut it politely behind her, waiting to be addressed.

Sakura pat the head of her daughter as she attempted to fill the impossibly small space uncovered by her mother's slim legs. A blush swam on the apples of her pale cheeks, and she grinned and panted from the force of her sprint.

Kunomi took one gulp of air before spewing out a volcano of words and stories, gesturing wildly between her parents to maintain both of their attention. It'd only been a handful of days since the presence of her mother lingered nearby, but she spoke with the rush of a reunion.

Eventually, her story ended in an exclamation of her hunger, and her little legs carried her in twirls towards out of the room in search of food.

Sakura had kept her voice low and husky as Kunomi hopped through the kitchen to rummage through a bowl, withdrawing and depositing different types of fruit until the result pleased her. The elder roseate beckoned that he follow her, dipping her fingers tentatively behind her ear to open the veil of her hair, like ruffling the dust from stiff curtains.

Sasuke adjusted his calf against Himori's round face, who'd taken to resting there after her heaving chest had settled. Yana was folded neatly into a square of gentle light in front of the doors, which let the sun into the ocean of her hair. He tossed his glance towards the door, and after spotting Sakura's swift nod, began gathering the three girls and herding them outside.

His throat was as dry as a desert for hours. He'd imagined a dramatic and dim entrance into the hospital; empty halls sang with his clamoring footsteps as if his strolling tiptoed on the cliff of a secret. He would stalk past door after door until reaching the end of a hall, Sakura's hand carefully pushing back the paper door, and suddenly the dark climax of the moment washing away as his eyes finally fell upon his son.

But this was unrealistic and unreachable, even as it played out in his own mine. The floors and ceilings paralleled in brightness and even if they were to travel without the three girls the building would continue to rumble with chatter and noise. The lack of privacy made him sweat.

Sakura lead the way, winding up and down halls, sometimes stopping to greet and smile with fellow nurses or surgeons, though never for very long since it seemed the rest of her party, including Sasuke, sighed with impatience as she politely exchanged words in hallway corners. Seeing Kunomi and Sasuke's faces twist simultaneously - arrogant and proud yet cowardly waiting for her to finish - made her heart sing. And cry.

A strong urge to break into a run towards his son danced feverishly in his brain as Sasuke followed, trailing from behind so the girls would not delay him with games of chase. He thought he could hear his son breathing his name from far away.

Though now as he sat in the darkness of a lounge outside of the room that held his child, still waiting for Sakura to permit his entrance, he hardly heard a thing aside from his own nervous breathing. He wished for Kunomi's warm company as he turned another page.

Sakura wanted the boy to feed before Sasuke got "handsy" with him, otherwise she thought he would be more open to irritation and scream as newborns often do. A nurse with freckles and golden eyes called for Yana and Himori from the door leading into the hallway an hour into his wait. Kunomi spotted Ino and her twins, Shikakai and Shikari, being escorted down the hall. She quickly insisted that 'play time was needed to replenish her patience' and pushed her little legs after them. The fear of missing Sakura's beckon to enter kept him from calling after his daughter.

Indignantly he muttered to himself about the curse of tinted windows, but then followed up with a thought that perhaps they were made specially for situations such as this, in which they resisted him from the temptation of peeking through the glass, from partaking in the apple from which his lips were forbid to touch.

So there he sat, cold enough to shiver but daring not to disturb the poisonous peace, for what seemed hours into the night, watching the black glass, which framed the door he waited for, reflect the serpent slinking through the apple tree.

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><p>The familiar sensation that stalling was not the correct way to approach a situation peppered a headache across Gaara's eyes, which ached for home. Or at least for a decision.<p>

The redhead lay still and tight on the floor of his cottage's small kitchen, listening to the water run into the sink, splashing over dishes and empty sake bottles he stole from Naruto's personal cabinet in a narrow attic in the Academy. He assured himself that it he was doing Naruto and Hinata a favor, as well as himself, he supposed. Then again, it might have been the rash of embarrassment that fueled him; Naruto's snarky comment about Sakura still bitterly nipped at his mind.

Gaara found that he was always very good at waiting. But a scenario in which he was being waited on, in which his decision changed and daunted others' thoughts, unsettled him deeply. It shook his chest and head and dunked him into cold water, threatening him with a chilling end if he did not respond accordingly.

He had to admit, though these situations were not uncommon by any means after his introduction to his lifetime parter, the honorable position of Kazekage, endings ruled terribly and fearfully over him, as had his cursed chakra beast and his own father. Not only the prospect of finality, but also the open and strange arms of new beginnings. Both taunted him. They ran their long fingers through the bloody tendrils of his hair and cooed against his neck and kissed his ears. They seduced him into a pit of dark potentials.

His long limbs could not hope to move against this massive power, these questions that swept him up and pocketed him into their trousers. So instead he lay like a weak bird with no wings, helpless and cold, along the wood floor. The flowing water toppling over the rocks that were his glass bowls and slapping against the metal sink called to him, "Fly to me," it uttered, "let the wind carry you into my arms."

As he laid paralyzed on the floor, he wished he was not a bird at all. Before his eyes saw his own imagination portraying him as a fish, swimming happily towards the water, which glittered and bursted beautifully in the sunshine and was bleached pink in the light. And again as a broad buck, feasting on rich, full leaves in a tree that bloomed along the river he swam in in a past life. The branches tickled his antlers and the sun rubbed pictures into his fur.

But the pale ceiling of his home eventually filtered through, and it loomed over him, pressuring him to wobble on his weak legs towards Sakura, who he could not decide between picturing waiting nervously for him or busying herself with people - or yet, her tiny son.

However even with the animated encouragement of his roof, Gaara only managed a twitch of his fingers. The apprehension of meeting Sakura at the hospital, where ultimately he would likely encounter her son, glued him to the floor. A baby, barely strong enough to drink milk and breathe of his own accord, in such close proximity to dangerous man such as himself scrambled his sense.

Meeting Kunomi for the first time had been an adventure on its own, and Gaara admitted that if the child was less rambunctious and social that he probably would possess no fondness for her as he did now. The prospect of beholding, perhaps even physically touching such a fragile body was unbeknownst in his mind, and the image shattered like glass before even fully forming. Such a setting was too delicate, too intimate for Gaara to perceive.

Not to mention, as he continued to ponder, the realization that Sasuke would no doubt accompany Sakura to the hospital would further hinder his ability to remain controlled. The pressure hovering over his flattened body thrummed and hardened as he imagined the disrespect that would come with touching another man's child. Every pore of his body cried out in firm, unmoving denial. There was no way into the situation without wounding someone or himself.

A solid decision to lock himself away and patiently wait for dawn against the tile floor began to settle in his mind before being cleanly yanked away by the image of Sakura rocking Kunomi to a quiet slumber in her arms, pausing now and then to pat her tiny back and peer out the window at the position of the moon. She'd stare and wait, always casting her eyes down, listening to Sasuke hum over the edge of his child's glass crib.

The imagined reflection of a broken family in her wide green items made Gaara start. His back rippled against the resistant aura that he knew did not exist and climbed to his feet, knowing that if he could prevent another bout of trouble for Sakura, it was at least his responsibility as her friend to do so.

Though he knew Sasuke would more than likely be at the hospital, the idea never fully registered until the Uchiha's distraught gaze pinned him as he moved to step into the waiting room outside of the ICU. The man seemed to vibrate with anxiety; a clash of red and black glimmered in the holes of his face, as if some untamed force begged to be released. Gaara only stood primitively across the threshold, fearful of offending or threatening the obviously put-out Sasuke.

They both clasped each other in a strange bond for a period of moments. Neither understood what kept them from acknowledging the other, and each pondered the fact that the tensity between them was the only line drawn to keep them from experiencing a severe awkwardness.

Sasuke eventually straightened from his defensive hunch, which Gaara admitted looked awfully uncomfortable in the confines of his chair. He raised his long pale fingers, allowed them to flick about his chin for a moment, only to settle them against his leg. Gaara, knowing the Uchiha as a man of remarkable pride, uncoiled his muscles in relief and swept away the thought of Sasuke's outright disrespect towards his title. Instead, he nodded gratefully, entering the room and closing the door carefully behind him.

Sasuke idly gazed, his irises still flickering, as the Kazekage stole a seat on a couch posed opposite the door which enclosed his child. Upon his own arrival Sasuke had chosen the seat nearest to the door, tucked inside a corner of the room beneath the bare window.

Gaara shifted his robes across his legs in mild discomfort, feeling formal and out of place. His headache throbbed in harmony with his heart at the burden of such a setting.

For a handful of moments each man sat, altogether avoiding eye contact but still peering carefully at the other during small seconds of opportunity.

Accompanied by another presence, the ongoing quiet only unnerved Sasuke all the more. He'd never experienced such an urge to speak, though he restrained himself in hopes to hear a muffled cry from the wall he hovered so closely to; he knew that such a sound would never greet his ears, but still he strained against the shadows and the empty air.

Only the other man's bleak grunt tore Sasuke from his concentration, where he'd painfully returned after a few passing minutes of quiet. The moonlight, which bleached Sasuke in a flood, only revealed a quarter of Gaara's face, consorted by the surge of his sonorous hair that lead to the scarred kanji on his temple. Naruto, after first reintroducing the two years apart from their first heinous clash, described Gaara as a distinctly frail soul, too gentle for the years that claimed him. In the dank light, Sasuke thought he saw only the deep root of a monster.

The grunt was soon followed by Gaara's polite interruption.

"Uchiha-san," he sounded, the tone of his voice so barely beneath Naruto's it scrambled Sasuke's head, "pardon me for my bold asking, but what ails your eyes?"

The question stirred him, and for a moment he downcast his eyes to tinker his self-control. The flickering halted and Sasuke shook the air with his astute and dark voice:

"What are you doing here?" Sasuke disregarded the Kazekage's question, as well as raising his chin as if it were the peak of a mountain, grinding his eyes - now a resonant coal black - against the other man's.

Gaara found his arrogance profound.

The Fourth Kazekage's reputation was not often described as one of endearing kindness. The angry, festering chakra that often plagued Sasuke reminded Gaara of a lecture shared by his father to Temari, Kankuro, and himself.

The end of a routine sand storm set off to bemuse too-curious travelers raised a wall of golden mist against the fading light of day, the moon waiting barely above the sand dunes for the departure of her brother. Gaara's brother and sister were juxtaposed in a corner with their hair brushing against the dusty walls as they spoke languidly and enchantedly as he noticed children often did. Gaara was tucked into a chair and earlier instructed to sit quietly.

He wished very much to laugh with his siblings, but found the gaze of his father boring over him daunting, and therefore remained like a rock in the bottom of the pond, cold and ultimately passed over without a thought.

His father spoke in a soft voice, but never once had Gaara recalled a soft word from the man. His impatience was known and believed in only speaking when necessary, expecting for people to listen and finding no need to call them to attention beforehand. Temari and Kankuro quieted and quivered in time with Gaara. The lesson that they should always listen to their father came in turn with a constant need to fear him, otherwise they should bare to witness his hand land painfully across their small faces.

The lecture the children expected developed into more of an admonition. The Kazekage, iron and blood and nothing at all similar to paternal, assumed a peculiar nature as his mouth moved slowly, wan and thin, emitting words meant to soothe, though only achieving an air of discomfort to emanate around the disjointed family.

The exhortatory seemed foreign leaking from the mouth of their father. He told the three of them as the curled against the walls, unsure of this new behavior, that each person's soul was much like a tree. Even each species, though there could be thousands - he changed oaks to the nin of Suna, the white birch to Konoha, the weeping fig to Kiri, etc. - each were unique in color, texture, and in return people were different in their appearance and heart.

After a minute or two of further elaboration the man grew quiet, and his children stared earnestly and curiously, though still apprehensive. Only Temari opened her mouth, shyly asking for an example.

Gaara expected his father to tell Temari the character of her tree, but instead the man stepped closer to them all, hunching down into a squat and peering very far away.

Slowly he began to describe the disposition of his late wife. A smooth bark, blank of cracks, and moist like the flowers that grow by rivers. Gaara only remembered bits of the picture now, because as his father further dived into memories of Karura, extracting images of her smiles and her polite chides and her sorry, untimely death, his gaze gradually grew from haunted to hatred, turning pointedly towards his small red-haired child cowering alone in a chair.

This lesson flashed dimly behind his eyes as the Uchiha haughtily stared. Gaara had never found a branch of the Sasuke's personality that ever bore a sweet fruit, nor a singing bird or bunch of leaves. The tree of Sasuke Uchiha, the wooden soul that Gaara liked to imagine pumping underneath his skin, groaned with threats and pulsated, its skin charred from his host's black chakra, as if it were a tumor, filled with the rank puss of revenge and soiled goals.

Nevertheless, the Kazekage knew only turmoil would follow a responding silence.

"I've come to escort Sakura home," Sasuke seemed unimpressed with this answer. "Naruto mentioned that your son would be entrusted to her today. I arrived at his request to assist her."

Gaara was unconvinced that he did not lie, per say, yet only _embellished_ his true purpose. His morale wilted and he rebuked himself. Giving Sasuke a reason to mistrust him was unwise.

"Naruto is too busy for us, then?" The question was bland, and the Kazekage, though a plain man himself, blinked at the missing touch of hurt, or condescension, or amusement. It left him groping in the darkness for a random response, hoping it fit the question.

"I cannot speak on the Hokage's behalf. It would be tumultuous of me."

The Uchiha grunted, which Gaara secured as an agreement.

Another short time of waiting passed, though this time stares of each man fell on the intrepid moon. Both appeared stony and tight with nerves in their calculations.

The silence was interrupted at the sudden creak of the door to the room. Sasuke almost broke his neck as he snapped towards the sound, and the two pairs of waiting eyes caught sight of Sakura's timid face.

Her hair was unbound from the short up-do she displayed earlier, and her face peaked in surprise at the unexpected presence of Gaara, though her Inner contemplated how genuine the surprise was. A faint blush ran across her skin and her eyes seemed almost swollen, and apologetically she turned to face Sasuke.

"Um," she started, pinching her fingers across the bridge of her small nose and crinkling it in displeasure, "I'm very sorry for the wait. I fell asleep while feeding him," Sasuke barely raised his eyebrows, a diminutive, but elegant shift of features. "It must have been hours."

Gaara watched curiously for his reaction, but Sasuke only nodded faintly, rising to his feet swiftly and nervously holding Sakura's gaze. His shoulders seemed gaunt and hunched over Sakura, unlike the broad and confident gait that signified him. For the first time in his life, Gaara thought he saw uncertainty color the Uchiha's pallor.

The roseate in the doorway smiled at Sasuke's innocent discomfort. She seemed to glow with a patient, maternal aura that Gaara instinctively identified, though he'd never seen such a gaze bestowed upon himself. She encased the man's hand with her own, almost forlornly, and led him into the hazy glow that radiated from behind the mostly closed door.

* * *

><p>As Sakura pulled Sasuke through the door by the hand like some lost child, she sent a small smile to Gaara between the space of the door. She had been unsure if he would be patient enough to find her here, to aid her desperate situation with friendship, but liked to think that she knew he would turn up all along. He seemed peaceful as he waited, and Sakura hoped he would not mind a handful more of minutes.<p>

The urge to giggle itched at her throat as Sasuke stood still, unwilling to move without the instruction of her hand. His view rested on a small glass box posed in the center of the room, the angle just high enough to make out the bundled shape of a baby. Machines hummed and bleeped around him, but the case that covered him, through which tubes ran to circulate the purest form of air, was removed and he was free to observe the world around him.

Sakura worried he could already see their son's face, but abandoned the thought as an anxious tremor ran down his back, making his hand quiver between hers. She tugged on his wrist, and his eyes found her, his feet eventually following her shuffle towards the center of the room.

The walls of the makeshift crib loomed tall around the wrapped baby, shielding his face just enough for Sasuke to stumble in his gradual movement towards it and miss the image of his small face. His temples throbbed and he felt his eyes itch for the activation of the Sharingan, but Sakura gazed into him, shaking her head. "Don't spoil it."

He took the final step, revealing the identity of his son, and a long sigh escaped from his mouth. It filled the air around him with the scent of oranges and impatience.

The baby seemed to be asleep at first, though with a loud movement from Sakura his eyelids pulled back, revealing onyx irises that rivaled his father's in depth. But as Sasuke stared into them he saw no darkness, no evil in their pits. He saw only fatigue and vague curiosity.

Tentatively and without self-awareness, Sasuke reached out and cradled the child, pulling him against the tight muscles of his chest. Warmth seeped through the fabrics of the his binds and relaxed the tense frame of Sasuke, the child yawning and snuggling against his father's arms. Sakura carefully laid her hand on his bicep, leaning down against his shoulder to capture the moment between the two.

"He's beautiful," was the only thing Sasuke managed to whisper. He felt Sakura nod against his arm.

"He looks like _him_."

The infant's eyes were large, though more almond-shaped than Kunomi's wide and circular orbs. They were inky - Sakura secretly wished for them to be a bit green, but it seemed her hopes proved futile - and dark, but held none of the malice that was so characteristic of the only adult Uchihas. A crown of thick, dark hair - Sakura truly was hopeless when it came to genetics - grew in a wide line in the center of his head, the areas around it sparser in coverage. His nose was small and narrow; his lips thin yet bowed. Two small troughs cut gently underneath the tear ducts of his eyes, plowing valleys and fading where his cheekbones raised.

Sasuke stiffly nodded at Sakura's comment, though it did not bother him that it proved true. The boy did have a remarkable resemblance to Itachi.

They both stood there for a time, peering carefully and openly at the fragile baby. The pair were awash with admiration, and Sakura yearned for the gentle coo of her child to brighten her slowly dampening mood. The setting reminded her sharply of Kunomi's birth, though this time there was an obvious absence of bustling people and she was much more comfortable. Sasuke also seemed more involved this time, as opposed to after their daughter's birth where he stood petrified in the corner until everyone else had seen her first.

The knowledge that their son would grow up in a fractured household poked a hole through her heart. The prospect of divorcing Sasuke was difficult without the added pressure of children. However, Sasuke was making an effort to be helpful, and she knew this without him having to point it out (although it wasn't like he ever would). Initially he'd been shaken at her suggestion of a separation, but eventually he came around to the idea after noticing her discomfort. They were dysfunctional. No amount of apologies could force together two pieces of a puzzle that were not corresponding in shape.

He put away what money he knew the children would need to become successful ninja. He made appropriate comments about how they should be raised; he was polite and willing during conversations. His behavior was unrelentingly tender towards Kunomi, and Sakura had no doubts that he would be equally, if not more, perceptive towards the needs and wants of their son.

She felt guilty for falling out of love with him.

Tilting her chin to stare up into his eyes, a crack flew up the walls of her throat. Her jaw grazed his arm and for a moment he paused in his watch over the baby, hesitating as he turned to meet her eyes.

The words she needed to explain herself clogged deep in the pipes of her vocal chords, and Sakura could only purse her lips as she stared. The apology, the gentle plea of forgiveness that lay on her lips, hands braced against their cage in anticipation of being set free to fly, instead died there in a moment of dry regret. Delicacy clouded his black eyes and she could make out the moisture collecting in his lashes. He stole another glance at the child, who'd taken to snoozing in his Sasuke's arms, and then focused fully on Sakura. His skin crumpled lightly, and her heart filled with unadulterated shame. He genuinely smiled at her as he had only three times before: after the first time they kissed, under the cover of nightfall when he first proposed to her, and after the declaration that Naruto had ended the war.

"I'm truly sorry for whatever I have done to make you want to leave," he said through his tragic beam, "I never wished to put that burden in your heart. I hope you will forgive me."

Sakura stood stunned next to him as he continued to grin, allowing the statement to sink in. Rarely did Sasuke make such bold admonitions, and he expected the shock and blush that played across her face.

"I . . ." she was lost for words, for a phrase to fill the air as he smiled so purely at her. To have to break such a face made her soul weep, but no spark of requited love drove the beat of her heart. She could only provide words of disappointment. "I'll wait for you both outside."

His mouth fell, though not fully, as the rejection punctured Sasuke's inflated giddiness. It felt as if someone had popped him across the face, and inwardly he berated himself for disregarding their strained relationship. The bond between them he mistook as renewed, and now he knew that he would surely pay the price by hurting himself and ultimately, unintentionally, hurting Sakura.

He nodded, holding his smile through now-closed lips, and watched as Sakura sauntered calmly out of the room.

* * *

><p>The brief moments between leaving Sasuke behind and walking towards Gaara were the few she allowed herself to writhe in her self-disgust. Her idea of having a calm and understanding separation from Sasuke appeared to shatter in front of her eyes, and her thoughts wildly swarmed around in her mind, leaping from the circumstances it would have on tomorrow until the end of her life. Why had she spoken? Why had she retorted in such a bold and cruel way? She was completely aware of the fragile moment that hung in the balance, and she had crushed it like an oncoming enemy attempting an ambush. She'd desecrated Sasuke's joy out of selfishness and fright. How could <em>he<em> ever forgive _her?_

Those moments were, however, brief, and in time she stepped into the waiting room where Gaara sat patiently, his hands folded across his lap and his interesting eyes blinking slowly. His face was obscured in the moonlight in an unsettling way and feeling her stomach drop from the earlier skirmish, she reached out for a light switch and squinted as the room was washed white.

"Hello." said Gaara, whose face so closely resembled the barren expression Sasuke usually wore it made her ankles shake atop her heels. Sakura grimaced at her weak legs. She made a mental note to space out her schedule and make more time for training.

"Hi, Kazekage-sama" she jeered, crinkling her nose at him and throwing out a quiet laugh, as well as a wink as he shook his head at her. The corners of his mouth lifted lightly, and she thought she saw the same glitter in his eyes that burned from the reflection of the fire a few nights before.

"Did it go well?" Gaara indicated towards the doorway she came from with his jaw.

"Yeah," she grinned again, quelling the violent tumble her stomach made at the reminder, "I think it went pretty well."

"Yes," he nodded, "Uchiha-san seemed rather tense. I hope he found relief now that he has seen his son."

"How did you know that he's never see the baby before?" she asked, her eyebrows curling in vague suspicion. Gaara stood suddenly, finding it uncomfortable to look up at Sakura.

"Naruto said the child was held in the ICU for weeks."

"Oh," she muttered, forgetting that Naruto met with Gaara earlier that day. She'd heard about the Hokage's plan to debrief him a week or so before when they shared lunch at Ichiraku's. "Did he mention anything of importance?"

Gaara scrunched his forehead in apparent confusion. "Information shared between such meetings are confidential, Sakura."

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course," she laughed off through slightly gritted teeth, "My apologies. It's just that Naruto has been acting awfully strange lately."

The statement was not untrue and also not foreign to Gaara's ears. Temari, during travel, relayed the rumor that the Hokage was more or less 'cracking under pressure' and concocting a plan of action for against the two Tailed Beasts still wrecking through the Ninja Nations, though they'd taken to hiding out after the captures of the previous two Beasts. Gaara, having firsthand heard Naruto's idea, knew the truths of the rumor, but was unsure to spread such a tale throughout the inhabitants of Konoha. Even with his trust placed firmly in Sakura, the word of such a feat would spread like wildfire through the Nations. And even so, Sasuke Uchiha stood in just the other room. The risk was to great, and Gaara straightened his back against Sakura's bashful apology.

"He has suggested a plan of action, but I turned it down," he spoke, sensing the energy of the Uchiha flit about the other room, and wondered if the other man listened intently to his voice. "We are still developing a course of action. I'm afraid that is all I can share."

Sakura nodded and thanked him, then gestured that both of them have a seat. She noticed Sasuke's chakra flicker with interest as well, and figured it was time to move on to less precarious topics.

Politely she shifted conversation in the direction of his travel, asking of any woes or wonders that the team encountered, though she knew the questions would come up empty. Gaara was aware that these meaningless jibes were only to fill the air, to provide some substance along with her presence, but he answered them curtly and with disinterest. He longed to share a conversation with her that held purpose. He yearned to hear of his _friend's_ woes and wonders and how she coped without his help and guidance. He wanted to ask about Kunomi, about Naruto and Hinata and their children, and he itched for permission to meet the baby, this child who swirled up such a storm in his life and that of all his peers.

But, apathetically, both chattered about topics that were mild and struggled to hold up between their minds and mouths. Some minutes passed where the two simply wandered off into a objectless field of thought, void of inspiration to distract their attention from the wait stretching endlessly in front of them.

Gaara observed Sasuke's chakra, rocking and lit with apparent happiness, and the fuel of his patience drove his mind to the end of its cliff. A wish to walk into the hall and speak freely with Sakura hung over him for a moment before he decided to disregard his wall of respect. The weeks had drawn on long enough. He did not measure his patience against the presence of the Uchiha.

"How is she?" he mumbled, quickly clearing his throat soon after and hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees. He sat his face comfortably between his palms and turned to Sakura. "Kunomi, I mean."

The kunoichi mimicked his position in a backwards array of movements, leaning her back against the couch's cushions and relaxing her neck until her head bumped solidly against the wall.

"She's Kunomi. Never stops moving." she chuckled, her eyelids flitting closed as conversation finally sank into a comfortable zone.

Gaara grunted in his own obscure way of laughing along with Sakura. "I missed her. She's like a little sunspot," he scratched thoughtfully at the shell of his ear, "not like Kankuro's daughters. She's so lively."

"Yeah, but it's not always such a good thing," she uttered, thinking of failed end-of-the-day classes in which she attempted to teach her students but Kunomi's "lively" presence appeared half way through and disrupted her students' focus into a chorus of admiration for the small girl. "She's a hassle, but she's missed you too."

"What are Kankuro's girls' names again?" she thought out loud, "the youngest is named Mitsu, right?" she opened her eyes in time to see Gaara's nod and flexed forward in concentration as she attempted to reconcile the eldest's name in files of her mind. She hated to admit that remembering the children's was not a priority at their introduction since she did not see them during most of her visit.

"Would you like a hint?" teased Gaara, who tapped his fingers against his cheekbone with amusement.

"No! Ssshh, I'm thinking of it," she exclaimed, "She has brown hair like Matsuri and Kankuro's brown eyes, seemed very shy when we first met. She shares the same birthday month as Kunomi and seemed rather pleased with that, and she had some dolls that she controlled with chakra strings.

"I have no idea why I'm trying to convince myself that any of this information will lead me to knowing her name." laughed Sakura, though she was still rattled that the name escaped her. Dramatically she threw her hands about in the air, admitting her defeat.

Gaara calmly grinned. "Her name is Ayumi. She's quite mouthy and reminds me of Temari, but I do admit she takes her looks from her mother."

"Is it strange that your previous apprentice is now your sister by marriage?" asked Sakura, the question suddenly dawning on her. Matsuri had been a loyal crush of Gaara's during their first battles with the Akatsuki, one of which resulted in Chiyo restoring Gaara's life with her own. The memory, stored and dusty from years of being forgotten, made Sakura grimace. They'd never known the true power of the oncoming storm.

"Sometimes, though it usually escapes my mind," responded Gaara, sounding thoughtful, as if a virgin to the idea. "I'd never particularly thought of it until you mentioned it. I suppose it is a tad strange."

Sakura told him to shrug it off, but came up short with an example of a similar relationship to back up her claim that it was not so unusual. This led her into a small fit of laughter, in which Gaara participated. Both felt soothed from their earlier agitations.

"Mitsu is terrified of me, however," he continued after his chuckling cleared, "she hates the sand, which is strange considering the others usually beg to play in it." Sakura smiled at the image of the two year old girl, her brown curls bobbing around her head as she stared wide-eyed at Gaara's looming figure, even though he was hardly more than a child himself - at least on the inside.

"That sounds entertaining," commented Sakura, "hopefully she'll warm up to you. The day will come when we walk into a room and the first person to embrace you is tiny Mitsu." Gaara shrugged at her prediction, though a small grin played on his lips.

"Does that mean you plan to return to Suna?"

The question stumped her. After the unexpected birth of her son and his immediate residing in the Konoha Hospital after a risky transferal jutsu from Suna, Sakura was too swamped with worries and consumed in installing normalcy in Kunomi to ponder the prospect that she had not finished her time in the Land of Wind. Naruto, probably purposely and with wise guidance from Ino or Hinata, had not brought up the idea, or hardly mentioned the fact that she still technically had not completed her mission.

Processing through her train of thoughts, attempting to provide an answer to Gaara's hanging question, Sasuke boldly stepped through the door with their child snoozing complacently against his collar bone.

"He's very tired."

Sasuke's words felt bloated and unwelcome in the light air, turning it quickly into a tense mash. Gaara simply turned his face against his palm, blank and blinking towards the Uchiha. Sakura held her mouth open in faint surprise at his entrance. She hadn't noticed a movement in his chakra. She hadn't even heard his feet shift against the tile floor.

Rising from the couch Sakura stretched her arms towards the baby, but Sasuke inched his shoulder back just enough for her to see and pause the movement of her arms, and she retracted, scrunching her eyebrows together in question.

"I'd like if he could stay with me tonight," Sasuke muttered, his voice still sounding deep and clumsy in the room. "I'll take the day off and watch over him tomorrow so you can have a chance to get back to the hospital and not worry."

Sakura closed her mouth and nodded with tight lips. The two of them shared an uncomfortable look and her lungs seemed to expand out until they touched the walls of the room, only to suddenly shrink and kick her heart out of its natural rhythm.

Gaara's frank voice crumbled the bridge between their eyes.

"Did you both decide on a name for him?"

Gaara could make out the dark nest of hair atop the child's head and knew that if his eyes were open he'd see the same starless eyes that glared at him now for his interruption. He'd overheard Sakura's soft comment that the boy looked like _him_, which Gaara only imagined could be referencing a relative of the Uchiha's.

Sakura glanced back at Sasuke, though he did not return it, and stammered out a response.

"Yeah, we thought we'd name him Tsuneo." Her green gaze flitted to the slow rise and fall of the baby's chest against Sasuke's chest, and a gentle smile graced her lips.

"It's nice." commented Gaara, whose vocabulary was rapidly dissolving under the glare of Sasuke. His responding stare was void of malice, but the Kazekage hoped the threat was easily conveyed through his glance.

Sasuke turned again towards Sakura, sensing her nervousness, and softened his eyes at her expression. His feet carried him towards her and he leaned down so that she could peel back the blanket covering Tsuneo's face and bless his cheek with a small kiss. She whispered something against the child's skin that Gaara did not catch, and Sasuke, for a fraction of a second, stared deeply at her oblivious face, as if some great barrier inside of him was slowly breaking down. As she drew back he mirrored her movement, then strided towards the door.

"Tell Kunomi I said I love her, and goodnight." he declared firmly, walking out into the hallway and towards his home, leaving Gaara and Sakura in the waiting room where his interruption still hovered like a fog.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I would actually like to take a moment and say my author's notes are always important. If I have nothing to say I won't!

I know this chapter was Sasuke/Sakura heavy, but I hope as readers you understand that this plot has a lot of loose ends, and as I writer I can't allow my story to walk around with its laces untied. Though the SS action may seem overbearing now, it serves its purpose to introduce the plot. I just hope you all appreciate the Gaara/Sakura action I got to throw in there. I love writing them as light together. And since Sasuke is more of an antagonist in this one, I hope you all aren't too upset with me!

The next chapter shouldn't be far away but I can never tell with my schedule, and recently I've got some plot bunnies hopping around in my head. I wouldn't tell you you were crazy if you suspected some new fics popping up on my profile, so be on the look out (though I can't guarantee they will all be GaaSaku or even Naruto related).

Reviews are my fuel, and I'm begging for some responses this time! I have no cheesy catch phrase to put here to encourage reviewers, but if I get at least 5 reviews I'll tell you all the best joke I know at the beginning of the next chapter? I'm such a good persuader. I should probably major in marketing.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

P.S. FIVE REVIEWS!


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